


Down That Road

by EnchanteRhea



Category: Saiyuki, Saiyuki Gaiden
Genre: As warm and fuzzy as Gaiden gets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnchanteRhea/pseuds/EnchanteRhea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This thing between them is a mutual agreement. The kind that knows what it is, that knows what it means without needing to be explained; the kind that tries not to make anything harder than it needs to be. <i>A snapshot of Kenren and Tenpou's rather unauthorized foray into the human world for post-battle wind-down.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Down That Road

**Author's Note:**

> A little fic to start off 2014 on a Saiyuki note! I'm not quite sure if it shouldn't be rated higher for Kenren's horny (and not that subtle about it) POV, but there's nothing explicit enough here to warrant that? I guess. :) Happy New Year, everyone!
> 
> Saiyuki in all of its incarnations belongs to Kazuya Minekura the genius, and I'm just playing with her creations, hoping I won't get shot. Feedback is love. Thank you for reading!

**Down That Road**  
by Rhea

  


The guards stepped aside to make way for them, scurrying like frightened rats, and maybe it was justified because Tenpou breezed past them through the Dimension Gate like a hunting shark cheated out of dinner.

That image glued itself to Kenren’s thoughts for a long, long time.

It's the uniform that brings it out. Or rather, Kenren mused as he followed Tenpou to the elevators with the rest of the unit behind him, it's the uniform that makes it damn near impossible for Tenpou to play his part of choice, the one that’s easy to underestimate because it makes him seem like nothing much. He stalks back to Heaven still high on the fight and doesn't wind down for hours, like a goddamn junkie. Kenren shares the love of a decent fight, but Tenpou off his self-imposed leash is something else entirely. Even if he doesn't make the kill, he's probably imagining it because everything about him--from the look on his face to the way he moves--seems to be screaming for blood.

Once they made it out of the Palace maze and the men got dismissed, Tenpou excused himself and vanished in his den. His eyes were hooded behind smudged lenses, the wave of his hand a stiff, automatic gesture with no meaning behind it.

Now--two hours later--he looks like he still has a pretty long way down.

“Not doing the paperwork right now," Kenren announces as he walks into Tenpou's office. At this point, if he's forced to do any more work of any kind, that heady feeling from the fight won't see him through the rest of the day. He's running on fumes by now. "Not even my own. Hey, maybe we should--Tenpou?”

Though Kenren is far from surprised by what he finds, it still gives him a pause. It always does. Two hours was enough time for Kenren to shower, check himself for innocent-looking scratches that could bother him later, and change into a fresh set of civilian clothes--two uniforms aren’t enough for the amount of fighting they’ve been doing lately. It’s not enough time for Tenpou to start thinking about getting out of his own uniform, never near pristine and now even less so.

“Eh, you’re being you again, huh? Let me look at that.”

Talking at the wall behind Tenpou’s back might have gotten him more; his squinted eyes don’t even flick away from the very old, bad smelling book he’s calmly carding through. Something must’ve caught his attention during the mission Down Below, or, even more likely, he remembered something on the way up that was _obviously_ more important than cleaning himself up. Surprise, surprise--most things are. He touches the book like it’s a fragile lover, with a gentleness that doesn’t surface elsewhere, not even in the bed they share now and then. Kenren is not fragile and he gets off on Tenpou’s rough, commanding side--but sometimes he’s maybe a little curious how Tenpou’s gentle caresses might feel. His skin tingles as he imagines it.

“Oi, Tenpou!” Kenren leans over to prod his shoulder. It’s a wonder if Tenpou can actually see anything through his filthy glasses. “You’d better get out of those clothes.”

“Mm.” Fingertips drum on the page, next to a sketch of something that looks like a torture device from the middle ages of the human world. The set of Tenpou’s mouth tells him he hasn’t found whatever he’s been looking for. “Yes, yes. In a moment. Is your libido really so out of control?”

“I’ll show you just how out of control it can be. Later. First things first. The book’s not going anywhere,” Kenren says as he gives it a nudge with his forefinger, fully aware of tempting fate and attracting a whole lot of danger. “Do you _want_ to get an infection?”

“Eh?”

"This." Kenren pokes the wet stain on the thigh part of Tenpou's uniform pants, above the knee. Stains on Tenpou’s clothing are part of his look, but this one is new, spreading out from the tear in the fabric, and it has grown twice in diameter in the past five minutes. “Your leg is bleeding.”

“Is it?” Tenpou looks confused. “Oh. You’re right. It is.”

“Now that you've noticed, go get cleaned up.”

Laughter fills the corner of Tenpou's cluttered office. The genuine sort, like it’s nothing. He really doesn't mind. “It’s not like I’m going to die.”

Kenren shakes his head. They’ve been down that road enough times. He doesn’t nag; it’s a waste of breath. There are other ways.

“Maybe not,” he says, “but you’ll get blood on the pages.”

That does it. “Ah. That would be terrible, wouldn’t it?”

Tenpou shifts the book to his other knee as Kenren sighs and fetches the first aid kit. The first time he went looking for it he was seriously surprised. He expected to find it either empty or at least long expired, but Tenpou seems to take at least that one non-reading-or-fighting-related thing seriously.

“Really, now. Get out of those pants already!”

Between the book and the cigarette that has materialized in Tenpou’s other hand, he doesn’t look like he’s going to manage undressing himself. Kenren taps out a smoke of his own and lights up, waiting for Tenpou to finish. Pushing him sometimes yields results, but it’s not like they’re short on time.

Kenren is half done with his Hi-Lite when Tenpou crushes the butt of his smoke on the frog’s head rather than in its mouth, getting ash everywhere while he’s at it. He takes the offered hand and lets Kenren haul him up to his feet. His cut up leg holds his weight easily, so it can’t be bad. He’s working the belt with one hand, the book still in the other one, his eyes on the page. He steps on the pant leg to get out of it, completely ignoring Kenren’s hand on his hip and Kenren wonders if Tenpou would drop the damn thing if he got on his knees and started sucking him.

The odds are against him on that one.

Tenpou has more scars than he should have because he rarely bothers with the minor injuries. That, and Kenren has caught him picking at scabs, scratching at them with an absent hand as Tenpou gets lost in his reading. They heal into patches of discolored skin, with some white, raised lines here and there, for variety. His body is like his mind: a mix of everything. A history book, of a kind. Those scars tell stories, remember them when he doesn’t.

“Let’s go somewhere tonight,” Tenpou offers, watching Kenren dab at the cut with gauze soaked in antiseptic. There’s a mildly interested look in his eyes, like seeing under his own skin is an epiphany in its own right.

“Yeah," Kenren agrees. "I could get drunk.” It was a rough day, one of many lately. A drink or five sounded like the very thing that could fix him up. "Could use some company, too."

“Not here," Tenpou says. “Somewhere new. There’s a lot you probably haven’t seen yet.”

“Not a whole lot,” Kenren says, and sure enough, his mind whips up an impromptu list of things he's quite sure _Tenpou_ hasn't seen (though, knowing the Marshal, he might have read about) and now that he has thought of them, Kenren is itching to show him.

Tenpou slides him a glance from beneath the fall of messy hair, a glint in his eye. "Let's go."

“M’not going anywhere with you until you bathe and change.”

Tenpou sighs, in that exasperated way designed to assure him there will be hell to pay; he tosses Kenren an evil little glare over his shoulder, tugging the sleeve off, slowly, to reveal skin. He makes a show of it as he walks at leisure in the general direction of his bathroom, dropping pieces of clothing as he goes.

Something catches, then. A tiny hook in Kenren's mind. It pulls and pulls and pulls, and Kenren follows.

*

The town lies within walking distance from the Gekai side of the Dimension Gate's default location, and it’s just big enough to let them blend in, a task made that much easier for the fact it happens to have a festival in full swing. There are crowds rolling through the streets, stopping like a hive when the fireworks go off. The sky lights up time and again in happy splashes of color. They stop when the townspeople do, crane their necks and stare up at the sparkles shooting high against the star-dotted black.

The air is full of smell and sound, the feel of the crowd a wave of energy washing over him, _through_ him--weird, but not unpleasant. Kenren wades through it, dodging children waving trinkets in all shades of red and things that don’t look edible but probably are, on the way to the stalls loaded with all sorts of food, each more inviting than the last. He picks the one with the longest line--popularity has got to count for something.

Tenpou keeps close behind him, a hint of a smile by now a damn near permanent fixture on his face. He hasn’t said anything for a while, but his eyes are wide, the earlier bloodlust toned down to normal levels, and it’s so clear he’s taking everything in with all that he is. Compared to what Heaven dubs a _festival_ and what’s never much but a dull social function with mandatory attendance, this one comes with a thrill that echoes in Kenren’s bones.

It’s full of _life_. The purest kind. Joy.

The line moves surprisingly fast. Soon enough they’re eating from trays, perched off to the side on one of many benches, away from the crowd. Thick, sticky sauce runs through his fingers. Kenren licks it off, wondering how come Tenpou has managed to be the tidier one for once.

“This is so much better than the instant stuff you keep bringing back,” he says. His taste buds might explode any second now while his brain tries to catch up with what goes on inside his mouth.

“It’s too troublesome to hide cooked meals inside the uniform,” Tenpou explains, matter of fact.

“Too bad I can’t eat anymore,” Kenren complains. There is something spicy-smelling that really appeals to him in the nearest stall, but his stomach threatens impending rebellion if he keeps putting things in there.

“Later,” Tenpou says. “They’ll be here overnight. Shall we get something to drink?”

It’s kind of obvious Tenpou’s been here before. He knows where to go and it’s not far, which is a fucking blessing because Kenren feels so full he can hardly breathe.

They get a table at the second inn; the first one was too packed. Tenpou orders their drinks, and when the waitress brings them, Kenren is surprised to find that it’s not sake.

“Beer?” He raises the tall glass up against the light. The smudge that’s supposed to be Tenpou’s face behind it looks funny through the lens of thick, yellow liquid.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Tenpou tells him, taking a generous sip. The foam sticks to his upper lip. Kenren thinks of very different things on those lips and his pants are suddenly undersized not just around his waist. “It will do, I hope.”

“It’s something else, for a change.” Kenren doesn't mind the sharp, bitter taste. “Change is good.”

“Except in Heaven, you mean.”

“Yeah. Except there.” Heaven holds on to itself like it’s the be-all and end-all of what holds the universe together. It’s disgusting when he thinks about it, so Kenren tries not to. “But it’s been a bit rough lately, don’t you think? Doesn’t really count as change, I guess, but something about it feels off.”

Tenpou props his cheek on the heel of his hand. He looks delicious sitting like that, at ease and actually _here_. “I thought we decided rough was the opposite of boring.”

“Too much of a good thing can spoil it, y’know.”

“Really.” Tenpou's forehead wrinkles in surprise, which promptly turns into an innocent grin that can't be interpreted as anything other than its exact opposite. “You do realize this is the kind of thing I won’t hesitate to use against you when you decide at five in the morning that you really have to see if that position from your dream is physically possible?”

“There’s never too much of good things of _that_ kind,” Kenren says quickly, though it’s already too late--he’s given Tenpou ammo to end all ammos for when he decides to be contrary to amuse himself.

“Either way.” Tenpou chuckles. “You have been warned.”

It sure sounds like he has been, though it’s not like the forewarning serves any purpose other than maybe putting him on edge and annoying him a bit. It doesn’t do that anymore; it hasn’t for a while.

“Oh, hey.” Kenren sets his glass aside on the table and leans in. “What got you so pissed off today on the field?”

Tenpou’s face does that thing where it drops whatever expression it held a second before, and Kenren already knows how this one will go.

“Pissed off? Hardly.” His voice is smooth; the voice of a liar. A skilled one, but still. “Appropriately for the circumstances, I was being serious. Why is that surprising?”

“I’m not buying that.”

“Oh? Interesting.”

“You were reading about torturing people when I got back,” Kenren reminds him, and watches Tenpou’s face go back to showing something resembling an actual expression. “For you, that’s just one step down from trying out the things from that book, verbatim.”

A shrug. “It was on my reading list this week.”

“So you’re totally okay with me calling the shots and having you at the back instead of at the front?”

Tenpou’s expression hardens, then. Bullseye. “I’m getting used to it.”

“You don’t trust anyone, do you?”

“Well.” Tenpou holds his eyes, but there’s nothing comfortable in that look. “The most unfortunate thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies.”

Kenren very nearly flinches at that. “You think I would betray you? Seriously?”

“It’s just something I heard here once,” Tenpou tells him, raising an eyebrow like he really just made an offhanded comment with nothing at all beneath it for Kenren to read into. “I thought it made perfect sense. Nothing to do with you, actually.”

Although it stings a little, if Kenren’s honest with himself he can’t be offended by Tenpou’s lack of trust. And then, Tenpou has been better at it these past few months. Trust is a hard-earned thing that takes trial and time. These days, they put their lives in each other’s hands often enough; if that’s not trust, then Kenren doesn’t care to come up with another word for it.

Labels are good for nothing, anyway.

“I trust _you_ ,” he says after a pause.

Tenpou gives him a fond smile. “Ah, General. You’re a hopeless fool.”

“And I'm gonna regret that someday, aren’t I?” Kenren flashes a grin. Regret is not his thing.

“Trusting me? Probably. Because I’m so well-mannered and dependable,” Tenpou says, the last words drowned in a fit of chuckles. “And predictable.”

“Because you aren’t.” Kenren is laughing, too, because this? This is it. “Predictable, that is.”

This thing between them is a mutual agreement. The kind that knows what it is, that knows what it means without needing to be explained; the kind that tries not to make anything harder than it needs to be.

Whatever it is, it _works_. That's about all there is to it.

*

Neither of them feels like leaving, though it’s maybe not the best of ideas to stay the night outside of Heaven. But it feels too damn good to go back just yet, and the inn has one room left to let. It doesn’t even merit a discussion--they exchange one look when it’s time to pay for their drinks, and next thing Kenren knows, Tenpou is leading the way, a key jingling in his hand.

There’s a double bed inside, which might or might not explain the stink eye the innkeeper gave them. All the better. It’s not like they haven’t shared beds before (not to mention other flat surfaces), and dragging two single beds across the room to make it bigger would be too much bother.

Kenren shrugs out of his coat and flops down onto the bed. It’s not as soft as Tenpou’s, but the way it gives under his weight is still a step up from the couch in his dorm room. Even lying down, Kenren doesn’t exactly feel steady; he lets the dizzy sensation course through him, closes his eyes to focus on how good it feels. The next thought hits him like an uppercut: it’s never like this up there, in that boring place he sometimes wants to call home, but he doesn’t because it really isn’t.

Down here, it’s a perfect night. It doesn't take much for that.

Well, damn.

“You’re getting me wasted,” he slurs lazily as Tenpou pops open a bottle of sake acquired in the bar. “Usually it’s the other way around.” There’s a faint voice at the back of his head, trying to warn him that mixing different drinks on the same night might whoop his ass in the morning, but this really isn’t a moment for paying attention to anything reasonable.

“Am I?” Tenpou beams down at him. “It’s not like you’re going to be any easier than you already are.”

Yeah, Kenren thinks. _I’m easy like that_. “Whatever you’re up to,” he says, “better get to it before I fall asleep.”

Tenpou tips the bottle and drinks generously. When he’s done, his tongue darts out to lick the spill off the neck and the top of his hand. Kenren catches that out of the corner of his eye, and the sleepy feeling leaves him in a flash.

“You’re enjoying yourself,” Tenpou drawls, and yeah, sure enough, _he_ is enjoying himself all right.

The ceiling is spinning a little. Kenren blinks to make it stop; when it doesn’t, he decides it’s actually kind of nice. “It’s fun.”

“It’s life.”

Kenren smiles. He feels warm inside, soft and relaxed. “Yeah. It really is.”

He drinks the sake for a while, every sip burning its way down and settling with a pleasant weight down in his stomach. He’s pretty sure he can feel his blood turning into booze, and it frees his mouth, dares it to be brave.

“I wonder sometimes what it’d be like to actually _live_ down here.” His heart does a funny little double-leap even as he says it. He throws an arm across his eyes, letting that thought bloom into its full shape. “I think I’d want to go everywhere. See everything. Travel the world. Maybe leave a trail of women in love with me.”

He peeks from under his arm. Tenpou sits backwards on a chair, chin propped on his folded hands, glasses askew.

“Are you sure you should be saying that out loud in front of your superior officer?” Tenpou asks. He might be trying to make himself sound like he means it, but he’s not nearly as sober as he probably thinks he is and it fails miserably.

“Positive.” If there’s anyone in the world Kenren could say this to, it’s the person in front of him. “‘Cause you’d be coming with me.”

“Ah. All right, then. Where to, General?”

“Everywhere.” Kenren waves his hand. “Around the world. To Hell and back.”

Tenpou laughs. “After Heaven, that might be a welcome change.”

“No shit.” He reaches for the bottle while there’s still something in it. “Let’s drink to that.”

They do, and then Tenpou lights two cigarettes and passes one to him. He gets up from his perch, the chair scratching at the floorboards. Kenren watches him; the ambient light behind him makes him look like shadow outlined in a golden glow. Somehow it’s just right; sometimes when he catches Tenpou’s eyes he can see the fire there, low and steady and white hot, waiting for a chance to burn down everything in sight. There’s something different in those eyes when Tenpou slips under the blanket beside him, bottle in hand, a cigarette in his mouth. Something honest and… not soft, maybe, but the edges are blunt.

“I think I’m done.” Kenren can hear himself talk, but the voice is coming from some weird place that doesn’t quite feel like it’s in his head. “I’m gonna show you things when I wake up, ‘kay?”

Tenpou sprawls next to him, stuffing a pillow underneath his head. His hair smells of sandalwood and cigarette smoke, and it’s good and familiar, in an odd way. Kenren gropes around until his fingers bump into cool glass. He plucks it from Tenpou’s hand.

“To the human experience?” Tenpou offers.

Yeah, Kenren decides. He can drink to that.

***


End file.
